Dear 19 year-old self, dear 22 year-old self, dear 28 year-old self, dear 32 year-old self, dear 35 year-old self,
Would that I could go back in time and tell you the #truthiness of this statement. However, you would not be the woman you are without the lessons learned from engaging with said shitheads.
The one who said ‘my weight was an issue’ when he was quite overweight himself.
The one who embarrassed me in front of friends when he stood me up before a big dance.
The one who knew only his needs and knew that I would make his needs a priority at the detriment of my own.
The one who tried to convince me that I was wrong, always wrong and stupid and not worth anything.
The one who would come in and out of my life, knowing that each time he disappeared, it wounded my soul and he still did it anyway because it’s what he does.
Battle scars, more tears than you can imagine and a beat up heart is what made you stronger and helped you love the right person more. You learned to appreciate the importance of allowing your heart to be held gently rather than tossed away and smashed.
I owe a debt of thanks to all the shitheads who ambled along my path and helped me see that my worth did not depend on their approval or acceptance or presence in my life.
So, while I’d have preferred not to tangle with shitheads in any form (male or female), they were necessary and instrumental in my personal growth.
And you stand stronger because of it.
Your best and biggest self
“A beat up heart.” Interesting. Once, after a particularly arduous break up, an image popped into my head: a photo I’d seen of Muhammad Ali’s hand after a heavyweight fight. Swollen and bloodied. That’s how I imagined my heart looked.
I love this.